Almost Violent
by Aisatsana Shiba
Summary: He’s beautiful when he kills. The grace of his strength and movements. I couldn’t avoid watching him play.


I've been having these dreams lately. Wild, erotic dreams that leave me panting and sweating more than I ever have.

And I know, I know. These things are completely normal for a guy my age. I read the books and pamphlets Crawford gave me when I turned thirteen. So I knew it was coming sooner or later. But I always thought that the dreams would feature one of the pretty girls in the magazines Schuldig gave me around the same time I got the pamphlets.

I guess I shouldn't be so surprised, though. Not with Crawford and Schuldig having sex whenever and wherever they can. But logically, shouldn't I be dreaming about one of them? I've never heard or seen Farfarello do or even talk about anything involving sex.

So, I've been having wet dreams about Farfarello, the crazy, God-loathing, homicidal Irishman, for about five months now. I can't even look at him anymore. Every time I do, I get flashbacks of dreams that are so real, I have to remind myself of what is reality.

I think Crawford's noticed something. I know Schuldig knows about the dreams. Not hard to tell with him. He gives me that stupid smirk of his at breakfast every morning that never fails to make me blush. Farfarello's behavior hasn't changed at all. I'm almost grateful for it.

Almost.

When I wake up from one of the dreams, I find myself wishing he would figure things out like our other teammates, or that I could just tell him. Then maybe I could have what I want.

We've just finished a mission. An easy mission. It really was unworthy of our skills, but it's money and that's all that Crawford cares about.

I was already frustrated before we left because Schuldig woke me before my dream… finished. I'd bet he did it on purpose. The bastard.

The mission made it worse. Farfarello got to do most of the killing. He's beautiful when he kills. The grace of his strength and movements. I couldn't avoid watching him play. Then on the drive back, Schuldig decided the proper home for his hand was inside Crawford's pants. Never even cares that his mind radiates with the lust from the both of them. At least the drive was quicker than normal.

Once we got back, Crawford and Schuldig practically sprinted to their shared room, which happens to share a very thin wall with mine. I decide to go to the kitchen instead. To make a sandwich or something. I grab the jar of mustard out of the refrigerator only to drop it when I turn around and see Farfarello leaning one shoulder on the wall behind me.

I swear aloud and telekinetically clean up the mess. I focus intently on what I'm doing so I won't have to see the smirk on his bloodstained face. Once the kitchen floor is spotless again, I reopen the refrigerator and take my time picking out the only block of cheese inside. I walk over to the counter and pick up a knife to cut a few slices for the sandwich I no longer want.

As soon as the knife is in my hand, I feel Farfarello come up behind me. His hands on either side of my body. Trapping me against the counter. My heartbeat doubles. My breathing becomes shallow. His voice hard and heavy in my ear. "Turn around, boy."

I obey without thought or hesitation, though my eyes only get as high as his chest. His right hand releases its hold on the counter edge to grasp my chin and jaw. Forces my face up. I'm about to close my eyes but he says "Look at me," in that tone again and I'm helpless against it. The look in his eyes tells me that I'm smart to do as he says.

"You believe I have not noticed the way you look at me when you think no one is paying attention, my dear Nagi. But you are not the only one that wants this." His words leave me wide-eyed and silent.

He finally lets go of my jaw. I briefly miss the contact before I feel his hands clutch my hips and lift me onto the counter. The height of the counter puts both of our hips at the same level. A fact Farfarello takes advantage of by pulling me flush against him. His face is bare centimeters from mine. "This is your only chance to back out. You say yes and you are _mine. _Understand? So what is it going to be, boy?"

I must be better at keeping a steel face than I had thought. I want this. Have wanted for what feels like forever in this moment. I want to kiss him so badly. He's so close. _So close. _But I'm paralyzed. The look in his golden eye is almost violent. I somehow find my vocal cords long enough to breathe, "I want you."

His smirk is the same one from right before a mission. Not tonight's mission. The real ones. When the target has too many bodyguards than most teams can handle. The smirk that makes him look like the demon he had renamed himself after. Makes his eye glow with the lust for battle and blood. That lust is there now. If I hadn't been on the counter, I'm certain my knees would have given out.

His left hand runs up my back to coil in my hair. He licks my bottom lip teasingly then whispers against my mouth, "Good." He uses the grip on my hair to harshly pull my head back. I moan softly when bites at my jugular hard enough to break the skin. Blood running hot down my neck. The muscles in my thighs are trembling.

I can feel him smile before he abruptly releases me and takes a half step back. I whimper at the loss before I can stop myself and his smile widens. His hands reach up to unbutton my mission shirt and push it down my arms.

I hear him chuckle softly and utter, "You know, I cannot remove this completely until you put down the knife. Unless…" he trails off and looks thoughtfully at the knife I hadn't noticed I still held. "Make me bleed." His voice is even rougher than when he first touched me. I look up at him questioningly, not fully understanding what he wants. He clarifies in a slightly more commanding voice, "Cut me. Anywhere. Everywhere. Mark me, Nagi."

I look between the knife and his face. Thinking of where I want to start. Then, slowly, bring the knife to rest against his left cheek. Where the skin is surprisingly unscathed. I apply just enough pressure to draw blood and leave a scar a bit lighter than his self-inflicted marks. The blade caresses his flesh like a lover's hand. At the thought, I dropped the knife to the floor and run my fingers across his skin. Along the blade's previous path.

He groans and grabs my wrist. Bringing my bloodied hand to his mouth. Sucking his blood off my index and middle fingers. My breathing speeds up at the sensation and the thought of that mouth other parts of me. I raise my left hand to clutch the back of his neck. Trying to encourage him to move forward again.

He resists and pulls my hand from his mouth. I make a frustrated noise, and he chuckles at my impatience. My shirt is finally removed from my body completely. Farfarello tosses it carelessly over his shoulder somewhere and immediately begins working on my belt.

I moan softly and try to tug him forward again. This time he willingly steps closer. I move my hands down to his chest and start unbuttoning his vest. His hands rest on my thighs while he lets me work. Once I finish, he shrugs it off his shoulders. The heavy fabric making a dull thump against the kitchen tiles. Sounding too loud in my ears. All of my senses are on overdrive.

He grabs me by the hair again and pulls me forward. Our lips almost touching. I pant in anticipation of him finally kissing me. It seems like hours pass before I briefly feel his lips brush mine softly. I whimper and part my lips slightly. Begging for more.

I hear him growl barely a second before his mouth is on mine. He kisses just like I imagined and dreamed. Biting down on my bottom lip and tongue. Making me taste my own blood. Dominating me. The violence in his kiss makes me even more impatient for him. I move shaking hands to the button and zipper of his pants and undo them without much trouble. If my mind was still working, I would be proud of myself. My fingernails scratch his hips in my haste to push the jeans down far enough to free his erection.

He uses the hold he has on my hair to pull me back and lick a bit of blood from my chin. His hands move down to my waistband and start tugging. I use my power to lift myself into the air far enough for him to remove this rest of my clothes.

His left hand pulls my hips forward while his right comes up to my neck and gathers the blood that still remains there. Without much warning, he pushes his index and middle fingers into my entrance mercilessly. I cry out but not even I know if it was pain or pleasure. He stretches me harshly and quickly. Pain fading into pleasure. Pleasure becoming pain. I am suddenly very thankful to those dreams.

I bury both of my hands into his hair and pull his mouth to mine for another kiss. It's just as violent and I can't stop the wanton noises from coming out. He groans into my mouth. I feel it more than hear it. The fingers inside me are cruelly removed only to be replaced by Farfarello's cock. I cry out loudly. I'm almost worried that Schuldig and Crawford will be able to hear me. Only so that they won't interrupt.

He thrusts in as far as possible and stills. My eyes close and I gasp, "Oh god…"

"Do you wish for _him_ to save you from me, Nagi?" he growls in my ear. The hands holding my hips tighten hard enough to leave bruises for weeks to come.

I wrap my legs around his waist as if to trap him. I whimper my reply into his neck, "No. Never."

"Then plead to me, not him. Beg me for it." He digs the nails on both his hands into the small of my back. Drags them around to my hips. Continues down to where my knees squeeze his ribcage. He grips my knees and pushes them away from his body. Towards my chest. I grasp his shoulders to keep my balance.

I moan softly at the change in angle before giving him what he wants. "Please, please, please. Take me. Fuck me. _Anything_ you want. Please." I sound pathetic to my ears, but he's the driver of this ride. I'm his passenger. And I'd give him anything as long as he stays in command and gives me what we both need.

He gives me that smirk again. Seconds before he starts pounding into me. I'm sure the neighbors think someone is being murdered, but I don't care. Can't care. Can't care about anything but what Farfarello is doing to me.

He lets go of one of my legs to grip my hair again. Pulling my head back. Exposing my throat in forced submission. He leaves a scattered trail of bitemarks as far down my chest as he could reach. Many of them bleeding.

I can barely breathe anymore. I use what little air I can get to moan and cry Farfarello's name and pleas to go faster and harder and deeper. My nails rake up and down his back. I can feel the blood covering my hands. It was all too much. As soon as Farfarello starting pumping my erection, I came intensely with a loud scream. I felt him pulse within me not long after. His teeth tearing into my shoulder. Making me shudder forcefully.

He pulls out of me and I'm unsurprised to realize I'm bleeding. Not that it matters much. I'm bleeding from several places. We're both in desperate need of a shower. I nip playfully at Farfarello's jaw and murmur my bathing idea into his mouth before kissing him far more gently then the previous ones. I hear him hum in agreement before someone clearing coughing makes us both jump.

We look toward the doorway to see Schuldig leaning on one shoulder. Staring at us with a raised eyebrow and an evil grin. "Shit, guys. Did you fuck or maim each other?"

... Bastard.


End file.
